Flying Test
by AnitaHoward
Summary: Fresh out of the Academy, the Doctor takes his flying test ... and fails. One shot. Featuring a Young!First Doctor.


Martha: Blimey, did you have to pass a test to fly this thing?

The Doctor: Yes, and I failed it. - _The Shakespeare Code_

**Flying Test**

Professor Chromus looked up as the door opened. In strode an Academy graduate, still in his get-up from the ceremony. Chromus was not impressed. Young, arrogant, and vapid, he knew the type; he'd been giving flying lessons for over a thousand years. His first regeneration had happened quite by accident, when a Type 17 Tardis (the one where materializing _around _something was pretty much hit and miss) had landed atop him and crushed him; the fault of an Academy student who had taken it out for a joyride without having any previous experience with a Tardis.

After that, Chromus had taken it upon himself to teach the young fools fresh out of classrooms how to fly a Tardis; not that most of them would ever actually own one, but they usually got their hands on one at some point in their lives. He had lived through twenty-eight new Tardis types, and the Type 45 was the best that had ever been developed.

"So," he said to the young Time Lord. "You want to learn how to fly a Tardis?"

"Yes!" Enthusiasm sparkled in the wide eyes. "Type 40, please."

Chromus rolled his eyes. "Type 40 is retired. We only teach you how to fly the newest … and the best. What's your name?"

"Hello, I'm the Doctor." He stuck his hand out, but Chromus did not take it.

"Humph. Well, come along. I need you to sign these papers absolving me of all responsibility in the case of serious injury or regeneration."

"Really? Can that happen?" asked the Doctor.

"Obviously. There are a thousand things that can go wrong if you don't know what you're doing." He gave the young man a long, hard stare. "Which you don't."

After the papers were signed, Chromus took his student to the test bay. He handed him a key.

"It's all yours. Uh, metaphorically speaking of course. I'm coming with you."

When they were inside the Tardis, the Doctor frowned.

"This console is tiny!"

"It has been designed for one pilot to fly, and is much simpler than a Type 40."

"Yeah, but all you do is stand here. Everything is in one place. That's boring!"

The console was crescent moon shaped, and in the middle the controls were all grouped within easy distance of each other. The Doctor had seen inside a Type 40 before; he couldn't believe they had taken all the fun out of rushing around the console, pulling levers and hitting buttons and having to be precise and quick; it wasn't any better than any other vehicle now.

"Doctor, stop complaining. You really need to learn how to shield your thoughts," said Chromus. "Don't they teach anything at the Academy these days?"

The Doctor turned quickly. "How do you fly it?"

"First, we need to run over a few rules … why are you laughing?"  
"Oh, it's just that everyone says you were run over by a Tardis, in your younger days. Just an unfortunate choice of words, I suppose. Go on."

Chromus glared at him, but he continued to stare into the Professor's eyes with a grin.

"We need to establish a few rules," said the Professor. "First of all, when you travel in time, the first and very most important thing is: Do not interfere. Time must run its course, and you have no right to change it."

"What if someone needs help?"

"You can't worry about that."

"What if it isn't a fixed point in time? Why can't I help then?"

"We are not here to debate or change laws, we are here to learn how to fly a Tardis." Chromus sighed.

"How did you make it through the Academy when you can't even make it to the beginning of a flight lesson? Anyways, the second rule is: Always listen to your instructor. That's me, if you were wondering. The third rule is very simple: Keep your mind on what you are doing. The Tardis will connect with your mind and this aids you in the flying process. But if you take your mind off of what you're doing, then it will be no one's fault but your own if you make a bad landing or end up somewhere you don't want to be."

The Doctor began calculating a complicated theorem based on the size of the console room. He always did this when a professor started going off instead of actually _teaching. _He started when Chromus clapped his hands loudly.

"So!" he said. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Don't interfere listen to instructor keep mind on business," he rattled off in his most bored voice.

"You're all alike, you students," said Chromus.

"I'm not a student!" the Doctor said. He pulled off his graduation gowns, revealing an outlandish looking short coat with trousers.

"That's a human outfit." Chromus looked him up and down. "Where did you get that?"

"I thought," said the Doctor in a loud voice. "that we were here to learn how to fly a Tardis. If you ramble on this way, how are you not still trying to teach your first student?"

Chromus slapped him across the face, not hard, but it stung a bit. "Hold your tongue, boy. You may think you're clever, but here you _are_ my student. As far as I'm concerned, you've graduated from nothing. Now pay attention!"

The Doctor hated being slapped, but it had happened often enough that he was fairly used to it. He stood in front of the controls and opened his mind to the Tardis. What a nice feeling! He could also feel Chromus' mind, and that wasn't so nice so he ignored it.

"Are you ready?" asked the Professor, obviously making an effort to control his temper.

"Oh yes! Let 'er rip!"

Stern eyes turned on him. "I mean … yes, sir."

Learning all the new controls kept him occupied for the next thirty minutes. It wasn't too hard, really; he was clever and had a quick hand and eye. Chromus sat back and gave instructions, and finally they were moving along smoothly through the vortex.

"Oh! Oh!" The scanner was showing something the Doctor had always wanted to see. "Oh, look at that! Isn't it beautiful? Look!"

"It's just a supernova, boy. It happens all the time."

The Doctor took his hands off the controls and stared at the exploding star. Then, without warning, he ran to the door and flung it open, drinking in the sight as it passed by. When it was gone at last, he turned around with tears sliding down his cheeks.

"You're a strange one," said Chromus. "Go back to your controls."

"Do I get to choose our destination?" asked the Doctor. _Please, please, please._

"Yes. Where do you want to go?"

"Earth. Have you ever been there?"

"Well, yes, a few times. But it's a boring planet, really. Nothing much to see."

"I've read all about it. It's fascinating!"

"If you really want to ..."

The Doctor was already setting the coordinates. He had memorized them, years ago, knowing this day would come.

When the Tardis landed, he went to the door and then stopped, hopping from one foot to the other.

"Go on, boy. Open the door!"

"What's it like? A new planet. I don't know if I'm ready for this." He closed his eyes. "What year will it be? I can't wait to see green grass, blue sky, humans!" With his eyes still closed, he pulled the door open just a bit, then closed it again. "What if …"

"What if we have to go back before you ever get a chance to see it?"

"All right, I'm ready." He opened the door and stepped outside with Chromus right behind him.

"Ohhhh," he gasped in a low voice. "Look at it."

Tall buildings rose not far from him; the sky was gray except in the west, where the clouds were pink and purple and blue; shafts of muted sunlight poured out between the clouds. Houses, closely grouped together, were all around them.

"I'm going to explore," he said. "Are you coming with me?"

"Foolishness," Chromus replied. "There's nothing special about any of this."

"Humbug," muttered the Doctor.

"What kind of a word is that?"  
"It's from A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. The main character, Scrooge, was a lot like you. He thought Christmas wasn't anything special and that ..."

"Christmas?"

"Oh, never mind. We're wasting time! There's so much to do and see. I'm not standing around talking. Are you sure ..."

At that moment they heard a scream. "Help me! Help!"

The Doctor took one look at Chromus, who had a fierce expression on his face. "Don't you dare, boy. No interfering."

"No," the Doctor jabbed his finger at the Professor. "No. I don't care."

He turned and began sprinting off.

"I _will _leave you behind!" Chromus shouted.

"Do it, then!" he called over his shoulder.

Another cry for help came and he found himself in a maze of streets. He could hear traffic not far off. He stopped for a moment, listening, trying to get his bearings, and heard the sounds of a struggle. Rounding a corner he came upon two people. A man was forcing a gag into a woman's mouth. She was kicking and twisting around but he had her hands tightly tied.

"How dare you?" yelled the Doctor in Gallifreyan. "Let her go!"

The man almost choked with surprise, then dashed off into another street. The girl began to collapse, and the Doctor caught her.

He knew ten Earth languages fairly well, and tried to guess which one she might speak.

"It's … all right ..." he said in halting French.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression, so he switched to English as he untied her hands. "Did … he hurt … you?"

"Just my wrists," she whispered, hoarse from screaming.

He didn't know quite how to estimate her age, but she seemed to be fairly young. Probably just out of her teens. He led her out of the alleys and they found a bench. She was trembling violently by now.

"Are you … all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, breathing deeply. "I think so. Thank you so much!"

Now that the excitement was over, he noticed what she looked like for the first time. She had dark hair and was wearing a knee length skirt with a button-up shirt.

"What year is it?" he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look, but said, "1955. And what was that language you were speaking?"

"French."

"No, before that."  
"Oh … uh. My own language."

"Why did you talk to me in French first?"

"I wasn't sure what language you knew."

"This is Chicago. Everyone knows English." Her voice wasn't condescending, just confused.

"Oh, well, best to make sure, right?" He fumbled with his coat pockets.

"So, what's your name?" she asked.

He ran through Earth names in his head, and finally said, "The Doctor."

"That's not a name!" She gave a small laugh. "Are you like 'The Lone Ranger' or something?"

"Erm ..."

"Who was that masked man?" She laughed again, but it wasn't quite a normal laugh, and he could see she was still worked up from recent events.

"Well, you can call me … John Smith," he said. "Would you like me to take you home?"

"If you don't mind," she replied, trying to smile. "I'm so glad you came when you did." She shuddered. "It's not far. We can get there in a minute or two."

When they reached her house, she looked up at him and smiled, drawing a deep breath.

"Sure you are … good?" he asked. Goodness, it was hard keeping all these languages straight sometimes.

"Yes, thanks to you. Come inside and meet my family!"

"I can't," he said. "I have to get back. My … _professor_ is expecting me." Oops, he'd just used a Spanish word. "Professor," he corrected.

"You're a strange guy," she said. "But I just really want you to know how thankful I am that you came when you did. If you ever want to visit, you can. Anytime. Please do!"

"I'll keep it in mind," he said, smiling. "Oh, and I never got your name!"

"Alice Dean," she replied.

"Goodbye, Alice Dean. Have a … a great life!"

"You too." Alice waved at him and he turned and began back the way he had come, hands in his pockets. He wasn't in a hurry; for all he knew, the Professor had made good on his threat and had gone back to Gallifrey. He really hoped he hadn't, but if he had, well, he could get used to living here. But he wanted a Tardis of his own so badly! When he came back to the place they had landed, he looked around. Night was falling and everything looked different. When Chromus had threatened to leave him behind, he had seen the Tardis right behind him; the Chameleon Circuit had fixed it as a … what was it? He racked his brain. He had only seen it for a second before dashing off. He reached out for the Tardis with his mind, and gave a sigh of relief when he felt it not twenty feet away. A telephone pole. He found the door and stepped inside. Chromus was sitting to his right. The Doctor tried to smile, but failed. Pure fury was written on the Professor's face.

"Set the coordinates for Gallifrey," Chromus said in a dangerously even voice.

The Doctor did so, feeling very uncomfortable with those eyes on him. He wasn't sorry that he had helped Alice, not one bit. But he knew he was in for something worse than a slap, and a shiver of fear went up his spine.

As soon as the Tardis was in the vortex he dared a look back at Chromus.

"I want an apology, or so help me you will regret it," said the Professor.

"Absolutely not," the Doctor retorted. "I refuse."

"Then you have failed the test. You broke the first two rules, shamelessly, and until you can come to me and ask my forgiveness, and _also _prove that you can follow the rules, you will not be allowed to take the test again." He shook his head. "You are the first student who has failed in three hundred years. And the only student who managed to do it on the very first day. You should be completely ashamed of yourself."

The Doctor shrugged, although his hearts were pounding. No license to fly a Tardis? No chance of getting his own?

"I don't know how you can expect me to just stand by while someone is in trouble," he said at last, unable to stop himself. "There was no reason for me not to help. You're the one who should be ashamed. That was a real, actual person out there being attacked. Who knows what would have happened to her if I hadn't stopped it. And all you care about is the … is your stupid rules. I really wanted to learn how to fly a Tardis, but not at the expense of becoming like you."

He could tell Chromus was contemplating whether or not to slap him, so he braced himself, but the Professor looked away at last and said nothing.

The Tardis landed on Gallifrey.


End file.
